The Door
by Nighthawk5
Summary: Mac contemplates the past as the present changes her forever...


"The Door"  
  
Summary: Mac contemplates the past as the present changes her forever..  
  
Genre: Angst/Romance/Angst and maybe then some.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I sat watching the door. It was bitterly ironic that it had come to this. After so long there was nothing but another door. I prayed it was just another cruel game of fate like all the other doors; that it was nothing but a practical joke played by kismet. They say that when destiny closes a door, it opens a window. My destiny was all out of windows and doors.  
  
There had been so many doors in my life over the past five years, so many opportunities not taken, so many windows I'd been forced to jump out of. We had come the same door, so many times. With him and I, there was always the door and it was always closing with one person left on the other side.  
  
I smiled in pain remembering the first door, located on a submarine that had accidentally gone under a thick layer of ice with Harm and I on board. At first it had occurred to me that it would be the opportunity to talk about the unspoken argument between us without the pressures of the ordinary. That was before I realised that I was condemned to spend a period of time in very close quarters with a man who had no intention of "going there" with me, not then, not ever.  
  
//"We're not married Mac."//  
  
In such a confined space he had little choice but to talk, I'd backed him into a corner and he'd made a miraculous escape with that line, leaving me standing in front of the door alone, and like a kid in front of a spooky house at Halloween, too scared to venture through it. Then someone tried to kill me and suddenly he was beside me at the door again, holding me as though he was so afraid of losing me. For an entire five minutes I felt a reciprocal want, need and desire. And then we returned to reality, as we always did.  
  
Only months after we met that same door again, on a cruise in Sydney. Again, I was all to eager to see what was behind the door, but too afraid to walk into the dark corridor alone.  
  
//"You know at New Year they write eternity on that bridge in lights?"  
  
"Is that how long we're gonna wait?"//  
  
Eternity.  
  
It was such a strange word. It provoked tears in me for months afterwards. I sought refuge in the comforts I could find. After being so blatantly unwanted by one man, being so deeply desired by another was invited. For so long after Sydney I was in two minds, one was taking baby steps away from that door, with no intention of ever returning. The other was standing fast, with no intention of ever moving. He had said wait, and I was going to wait. I don't when it was he met me at the door, but after a while I knew he was there, trying to ensure the mind tiptoeing away didn't leave forever. We stood before that door for such a long time, each of us knowing we'd both backed away, but never admitting it. The hostilities continued.  
  
Life became somewhat normal for a while. He managed to accept that things were different. I valued him as a friend. I loved him, I never stopped loving him and I never stopped waiting. We both realised we'd surrendered, and backed away from the door.  
  
Just before the consequences of retreat were realised, we returned to the door for the third time. It was becoming the Mekkàh of our relationship. Again we embarked on a painful pilgrimage. Standing on that balcony at that party, I'd wanted everything to change, everything to be different, the roles to be reversed, the lines delivered differently, the script re- written. I didn't want to be marrying another man, but at the same time, I was rapt in the bittersweet exchange of words on that balcony, at that party.  
  
//"We're getting too good at saying goodbye."//  
  
I never wanted to say goodbye, not to him, not ever. But goodbyes had a mysterious way of saying themselves. So we steeled ourselves for what was to be the final goodbye, the final moment of contemplation as we both stood before the door. We were over before we'd even begun, both employing battle strategies while building defences, shying from the consequences of opening the door, but ignorant to the ramifications of retreat.  
  
The ramifications made themselves known.  
  
We encountered the door again no more than a month later. It was like a stalker, hiding in the shadows, always there but never quite consciously acknowledged and damn hard to ignore when positioned directly in front of you.  
  
//"Come to me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You know the reason."//  
  
I wish I had known the reason, truly known, for absolute certain, instead of being forced to play guessing games, always at risk of losing. I didn't gamble in any aspect of my life, much less in relationships. But he always convinced me to do things I never did. So I went to him and he never told me the reason.  
  
The door faded into the background of cloudy skies and I stood in the rain the clouds promised alone, watching the window slammed in my face.  
  
There was a fifth brush with the door about two weeks later. It was no than a brief glimpse and when I saw it, my decision was made.  
  
//"I'm so sick of this dance."//  
  
It was a constant cycle. It had no end. It was an infinite and repetitive dance of torture, just going around and around until we reached the point at which we started. Two steps forward, one step back, one step forward, two steps back and we went nowhere.  
  
I was so tired of going nowhere.  
  
I asked him if he'd give her up to be with me, if he didn't want to dance any more. I never heard his answer.  
  
I walked away.  
  
Six. The fatal six found us just when we seemed to find a point in the circle that was beneficial for both of us, a refuge in that 360° rotation in which there was no pain. In an acidic parody of every other time, we were placed yet again in front of the door. It was becoming old now, the paint was chipped and the hinges rusted. I was tired. I didn't want the pain of another retreat, and I began to doubt that walking through the door would do any more than lengthen the circuit in which we travelled. We would never work, I was sure of that, and I argued from a position of infallibility: I wasn't going to allow anyone the opportunity to prove me wrong.  
  
//"It'd never work."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because one of us always has to be on top, and that's physically and emotionally impossible."//  
  
Paraguay was a God-forsaken place in my memory, somewhere I never wanted to see again, even in tourist brochures. The country was a ghostly reminder of the never-ending circle, a living nightmare in testament to a hellish reality that I had created for myself. I had dug my own grave, and now in it I was forced to lie.  
  
The door disappeared.  
  
It was gone for so long, I was sure it would never return, that it would always be another memory, another chance not taken. Then the circle started to re-emerge, my life gained some of it's previous routine. We met after some months, suddenly standing in the doorway, the door open behind us. He kissed me. I kissed him. But neither of us walked through the doorway.  
  
//If I put my heart on paper  
  
You'd rip it, tear it from my chest  
  
But I'll try to put this broken heart on paper  
  
For you//  
  
We both agreed to leave it at the door, to close it behind us and turn back to reality. The scope of reality didn't include what lay behind the door, and so apart from our brief venture into the corridor, the door had remained closed.  
  
//The last rose you gave me  
  
Finally wilted today  
  
It was the long-stemmed red one  
  
You gave me before you went away  
  
I picked off all the petals  
  
And let them float to the floor  
  
Those were my first flowers baby  
  
I've never watched roses die before  
  
Ever since you've gone  
  
I've cried a river from my eyes  
  
I didn't know I'd miss you so much  
  
When we sang our bittersweet goodbyes//  
  
I thought I could just accept a happy ending at that doorway, but he had kissed me goodnight, and I had found myself wanting more than just a goodnight kiss. There were our lives to consider, we'd both taken different paths and we'd both changed. But still we stood at the door, neither willing to back away. Our hands met as together we clasped the doorknob.  
  
//I cried a tear and it fell in the ocean  
  
When I find that tear  
  
I'll stop loving you  
  
I'll wait until the waves stop rolling  
  
And the seashells lose their sound  
  
That's when  
  
I'll stop loving you  
  
When there are no stars left in the sky  
  
When all the red roses wilt and die  
  
Baby  
  
That's when  
  
I'll stop loving you//  
  
But while neither would retreat, neither would turn the handle.  
  
The dance continued.  
  
The door remained closed.  
  
//I received your letter  
  
Scented with her perfume  
  
I couldn't read your handwriting  
  
But I cried all afternoon  
  
I know you can't have rainbow  
  
Without first enduring the rain  
  
But I've spent so many days  
  
Watching raindrops on the windowpane  
  
Ever since you've gone  
  
There's been tempestuous skies  
  
I didn't know it would hurt so much  
  
When we sung our bittersweet goodbyes//  
  
They say it comes with the job. A Marine has to be prepared to watch her best friends die around her. But I was so unprepared. Nothing could have ever prepared me for those goodbyes I never wanted to say.  
  
//I cried a tear and it fell in the ocean  
  
When I find that tear  
  
I'll stop loving you  
  
I'll wait until the waves stop rolling  
  
And the seashells lose their sound  
  
That's when  
  
I'll stop loving you  
  
When there are no stars left in the sky  
  
When all the red roses wilt and die  
  
Baby  
  
That's when  
  
I'll stop loving you//  
  
His hand left mine on that door handle. At first I refused to believe it, denial was the only comfort. His gone-ness was too much to bear in the face of that closed door. In desperation I ran to the window. It was closed.  
  
Outside, storm clouds filled the skies.  
  
//If I put my heart on paper  
  
You'd rip it, tear it from my chest  
  
But I'll try to put this broken heart on paper  
  
For you//  
  
And so at the last, I was left with three beautiful words, a grand total of six beautiful kisses, bloodstained hands, and the physical reality of death. It was a plague that never left me; I could never recover from its crippling effects.  
  
//The last rose you gave me  
  
Finally wilted today  
  
And I found myself regretting  
  
All things I didn't say  
  
I can't believe you're gone  
  
After all those moonlit confessions  
  
I never thought I'd lose you  
  
To one of life's painful lessons  
  
Ever since you've gone  
  
I've been searching for truth in my lies  
  
I didn't know I needed you so much  
  
Until we sung those bittersweet goodbyes//  
  
I had shattered inside. Welcoming death as I did, I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't cry. The onset of my rigor mortis perhaps came through sympathy, but more likely through the tidal waves of emotion that continued to crash down over me, paralysing me entirely.  
  
Though I searched, I could find no relief, no comforts. The spiritual part of my existence had ended, but the empty shell had survived it. Now only the husk lived, the core dissolved into nothingness.  
  
//I cried a tear and it fell in the ocean  
  
When I find that tear  
  
I'll stop loving you  
  
I'll wait until the waves stop rolling  
  
And the seashells lose their sound  
  
That's when  
  
I'll stop loving you  
  
When there are no stars left in the sky  
  
When all the red roses wilt and die  
  
Baby  
  
That's when  
  
I'll stop loving you//  
  
My wish of many years had finally been realised. The music had died, and the dance was over.  
  
The circle had been broken, and its ends would never meet until the gap was bridged by mortality.  
  
//"You're my lifeline Sarah, and no matter how much you beg, I'm never letting go."//  
  
But he was my immortal. He had never died to me; he haunted me, never letting go. Harm was nothing if not true to his word. And he would never let go of me, even in death.  
  
//I knew that I loved you  
  
But I didn't realise  
  
I didn't know I'd die inside  
  
When we sung our bittersweet goodbyes//  
  
So I sat on the naked desk in faded jeans and a loose fitting T-shirt. The situation was alien to my: sitting on my desk at JAG, which wasn't covered in a blanket of white paper that reminded me of snow, and wearing civvies.  
  
It felt strange.  
  
But then, so did most things these days. I felt as though I was living a different life, seeing the world through different eyes. Shivering slightly, I pulled my knees to my chest and waited. I was waiting to see him again, to watch him walk through the door, put his arm around me and convince me I was making a mistake. As I waited I cried, the tears coming from the empty space inside left because of my unwavering desire to be with him again and the bitter reality of knowing I never would. He wouldn't, he couldn't, walk through that door ever again.  
  
But I could.  
  
And so I got up and surveyed the familiar surroundings, the view I had witnessed everyday for the last five years. I turned and crossed the empty room which seemed to be a shell which had contained my life for the past half a decade. Memories and whispers danced across the floor, ricocheting off the unadorned walls. Those same ghosts of my past escorted me in my last moments in the bare office. Then I stood before the door one last time and walked though it. Alone.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
A/N: //text// denotes italics. Grr, fanfiction formatting, grr.  
  
The song is "Singing Bittersweet Goodbyes".. Is mine. 


End file.
